


Roses in December

by Kathryn_Sabourin



Series: If/Then [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bad Friend Trio, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, aph
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kathryn_Sabourin/pseuds/Kathryn_Sabourin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis is a recovering alcoholic. Arthur is a war doctor. Both live in New York. Both have a healthy obsession with one famous WWII singer. Both want a chance to start their lives over.  </p><p>Gilbert is a kindergarten teacher. Roderich is a musician. They've been together for four years now. They both want something more than a "boyfriend."  </p><p>Antonio is an environmental lawyer and social right author. Lovino owns a successful Italian restaurant. Both have the same friends. Those same friends are busy-bodies. And want them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What If?

_ June _

Arthur stood tapping his foot as he waited for his bag. His uniform attracted a few glances, and a few people smiled and nodded.  

He just wanted to pick up his bag, get in a taxi, and go home. Or, find a home. This past tour lasted longer than the others, and he'd needed to end his apartment lease. Arthur was on his way to meet a friend in the city, who supposedly found him a place.  

Well, friend might be a bit of an exaggeration. An ex who was his only contact in the New York would be a more accurate description.  

Basically Arthur was desperate and Antonio was his only option.  

He'd heard through an old army buddy that Antonio was still in the city, and was willing to help Arthur find a cheap apartment. He'd finally agreed, knowing full well that he'd never be able to navigate the game that was New York housing on his own.   

When his bag finally appeared on the beltway, he grabbed it, ducking out of the crowded room. Arthur gratefully stepped out onto the hot pavement, New York's June heat greeting him with a sudden blast.  

\--- 

Wandering helplessly through Madison Park, Arthur tried to find the meeting place Antonio had suggested.  

"The fountain, the fountain," he muttered to himself. He was about ready to just call the Spaniard and ask for directions when he turned onto another path and finally saw it.  

Antonio was leaning against the barrier to the fountain, chatting with another man. He threw his head back to laugh at something his friend said, and damn he still looked gorgeous.  

Arthur gulped, reminding himself why they separated in the first place. Toni wanted to focus on his writing, Arthur wanted to join the Army. Toni was way too wild a spirit, Arthur was way to reserved for a life of protesting. They were too different people, and they'd parted on good terms. Well, there was a decent amount of swearing involved, but at least it was mutual.  

The man's strikingly blonde companion finally noticed Arthur, pointing him out to Toni. The brunet waved him over, still laughing. 

**"** Hola, Arthur!" He called.  

Don't look at his ass, Arthur reminded himself, before smiling politely at the two men.  

"Hello Antonio. It's uh, nice to see you again." He extended an arm for a handshake.  

Toni raised an eyebrow, but shook it anyway. "You remember Gilbert, right?" He gestured to his companion.  

Now Arthur knew where he recognized him from. "Yes, I do remember him, actually." How could he forget? Many a time Gilbert had barged in on Toni and Arthur during various...activities.  

He cleared his throat. "How, uh, have you been, Antonio?" Arthur tried to maintain small, pleasant talk.  

Antonio laughed. "Hectic. I have a book to be released soon, and a protest to organize for three weeks from now. Along with...other responsibilities more recently." He hesitated before added that last thought. Arthur decided to not question him.  

"So, where is this apartment that you have for me?" He asked, changing the subject. 

Toni looked relieved at the change of subject. "Right across the street, actually." He gestured for Arthur to follow the two of them, narrating along the way.  

"My friend has a few apartments above his shop, which he has started leasing out to people. Well, we have been leasing them out. He is currently out of town for...personal reasons." Again, he hesitated.  

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Basically he's gone and we need money to keep the store going. So he's letting us board tenants. Lucky for you they're wicked cheap and in a good part of the city. And quite nice for the price." 

Arthur nodded. "When will your friend be coming back? If you don't mind me asking."

Antonio thought for a moment before answering. "If all goes well, by the beginning of September. So about three months."  

"Will his return affect my lease?"

"Unless you destroy the place or detract from business, no. But Francis is a very reasonable person. I honestly would not worry about him, amigo."  

They crossed the street, the shop in question now visible. _Merci Beaucoup Antiques._ French. Wonderful.  

Gilbert and Antonio waved at the women working inside the store, and walked around to the side entrance. "The apartments are on the second floor," Antonio explained as he unlocked the side door. It was a short flight of stairs up to the residencies. Leading Arthur down a narrow hallway, he paused at the third door down.  

"This one would be yours." As he unlocked the door, he turned to Gilbert. "Can you go check on his apartment, por favor? I want to make sure those plants have not died again."  

The German man nodded, opening the door directly across from Arthur's.  

Toni turned back to Arthur. "So, this is it." Arthur entered the space, and was surprised at how nice it was. It was partially furnished, which was more than Arthur was expecting to find.  

"The kitchen is fully functioning, there is a futon in the living room, and a bed and wardrobe in that bedroom down there. The bathroom is attached to the bedroom. Rent is fifteen hundred dollars a month, with the first month paid upfront. If it is ever going to be late, we need a two week advance notice. Do you have any questions?" 

"Why is it so cheap?"

Antonio shrugged. "Despite what Gilbert said, we are not desperate for cash. The owner gave us this price, and we are going to go with it. It is the best you are going to find in this area, amigo. Do you want it?"

"Yes," he answered a little too quickly. "Uh, I mean, yes. I want it. What paperwork do I need to fill out?"

\--- 

_ October _

Antonio covered his mouth  as he snorted, attempting to keep from spitting his drink everywhere. Gilbert, already laughing at his own joke, laughed even harder at his friend's reaction.  

The Spaniard managed to swallow, gasping for breath, and glared at the blonde. "Carajo, Gil! Not when I am drinking something!" He trailed off into a giggle again as Gilbert made a face. "I hate you. Please remember every time you look at me that I hate you."

"Alright, uh-huh. Noted."  

They stared at each other for half a second, before both snorting and bursting into laughter again. Doubled over, they attracted several strange looks from passersby.  

"It was not even that funny of a joke you idiot," Toni gasped out.   

"Shut up I'm hysterical!" He retorted.  

"Whatever you say love," another voice chimed in, as a new man slid into the seat next to Gilbert.  

The blonde looked up, and beamed at him. "Roddy, baby, Antonio's being mean to me."  

"Oh I am sure he is being absolutely vicious to you, Süsser. **"** Roderich picked a French fry off of his partner's plate as he rolled his eyes. 

"He tried to kill me," Antonio added on innocently.  

"See,  _ that  _ I believe."  

Gilbert's mouth dropped open, and he grasped his heart in mock offense. "You two are conspiring against me? Oh, my poor heart!" 

Before anyone could respond, Toni's cell phone rang. Smiling at the caller ID, he answered.  **"** Hola,  amigo." 

Roderich leaned back in his chair, slinging his around Gil's shoulder and gently rubbing his neck.  

"Madison Park," Toni answered whatever question he'd just been asked. "Where are you?" 

_ Francis,  _ Gil mouthed at Roderich, who nodded in understanding. He picked another fry off of the plate, swatting away Gilbert's intercepting hand. Underneath the table, Roderich slid his legs inbetween Gilbert, tangling them together.  

"How was rehearsal?" The German asked quietly. He snorted at the exasperated sigh from the other man.  

"My conductor is incompetent, the brass is overtly obnoxious, and percussion should be beat over the head with their own sticks. So per usual I am holding the pit together." 

"Aw, so humble, too." 

"That is lovely coming from the self-proclaimed 'Best Teacher in New York,' Gilbert, truly." He reached for another fry. 

"Hey, I am a brilliant teacher, danke sehr." Gilbert retorted indignantly.

"Liebling, you teach kindergarten. And I think Elizaveta would fight you for that title." 

"She'd beat me with a frying pan. Again." The German shuddered at the memory. "Why did I pick such a scary best friend?"  

"Because she keeps you in line." 

"'Tis true." He sighed, as if that fact pained him greatly. 

Roderich smiled as he shook his head, leaning over to rest it in the crook of Gilbert's neck. He reached for another fry, Gilbert swatting at him again.  

"Alright. Ten minutes. Adios." Antonio pocketed his phone, and turned to the couple still swatting at each other over food. Slowly shaking his head, he reached over and took a fry for himself. 

"In case either of you were wondering, he says he'll meet us at the shop in ten minutes.  

"Eliza's there right?" Gilbert asked, ignoring Roderich's grabbing of another French fry as they rose to leave.  

Toni rolled his eyes. "No, Gilbert. The shop is completely unsupervised. I am the irresponsible one, how could I forget!" He smacked his forehead. 

"Alright asshole, calm down," Gilbert chuckled. He slid his arm around Roderich's waist as they started walking, Roderich's around his shoulders.  

\---- 

Stepping onto the street, Francis smiled at the sight before him. His shop was softly lit, the pastel walls glowing ethereally from the light.  The bins filled with flowers were no longer outside, but could be seen on the shelves besides the counter. A few people were looking around, while a familiar face leaned against the counter, animatedly speaking to someone.  

Pushing the door open, the familiar scent of old books and wood varnish welcomed him home. Francis closed his eyes, letting the reality finally hit him. He was finally out, he was finally clean, he was finally home. The past eighteen months had been worth the pain for this moment.

"Francis!" 

Elizaveta's excitement broke the Frenchman out of his contemplation. Running around the counter, she threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. **"** Arany virágszál, how are you?" 

"Better," he answered honestly.  

She nodded, picking at the tips of his hair as she did so. "What is this? You're hair is almost as long as mine now!" 

Francis chuckled, gesturing to her hijab. "Ah, but I will have to take your word for it, mon ami. When will you ever show me, as you promised?" 

"We will see," she replied, grin slipping slightly. Elizaveta pulled him into a hug again, holding him slightly tighter this time. "It’s good to have you back," she whispered.  

He simply nodded, squeezing her in response.  

"So, how have things been going here?" Francis asked, trying to lighten the mood.  

"Well, business has increased about five percent, but did you have to open an antique shop in a city full of hipsters?"

He snorted at the question, and moved behind the counter alongside her. "I'm impressed, mon cherie. I thought surely you all would run it into the ground."

Elizaveta rolled her eyes, unlocking one of the drawers and handing Francis a pile of documents. "Surprisingly, Gilbert took managing the place quite seriously. He even ignored Roderich when he was working." 

Francis whistled. **"** Mon dieu. It didn't cause any problems, I hope?" 

She laughed at that. "As if the two of them could ever actually stay mad at each other. I am telling you Francis, we are all waiting for one of them to finally drop to his knees and ask the damn question."

Flipping through the papers, Francis smiled. "Well, they have both always been stubborn, have they not?" He paused for a moment, scanning one of the papers. "My money is on Gilbert giving in first." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous glint in those blue pools.  

The Hungarian raised her eyebrows. "Deal. Mine is on Roderich."  

"What is on Roderich?" A familiar voice asked. Francis turned to the speaker, face lighting up at the sight of his friends.  

Before he could respond, Francis was pulled into a hug by Antonio. He, like Elizaveta, hugged him slightly tighter than normal, but was smiling when he pulled away to look at him.  

"You look good, amigo. **"** He stated approvingly.  

Gilbert's eyes darted over him, examining Francis for any signs of stress. Seemingly satisfied at the sight of none, he too hugged his friend.  

"Welcome back, Francis," he murmured.  

The Frenchman hummed in acknowledgment, before pulling back to look at Gilbert's partner.  

"Roderich, you look good, mon ami. Gilbert has not stressed you too much, I hope?"

The other man shrugged but smiled. "Define too much. It is good to see you again, Francis. I was worried that Gilbert took a little too much joy in running this place."  

"Hey, I was a brilliant manager!"

Yes, liebling. Whatever you say."  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola: Hello  
> Amigo: My friend (masc)  
> Merci Beaucoup: Thank you very much  
> Por favor: Please  
> Carajo: Damn it  
> Süsser: Sweetheart  
> Hola amigo: Hello my friend (masc)  
> Danke Sehr: Thank you very much  
> Liebling: Darling  
> Adios: Good bye  
> Arany virágszál: Golden flower (Hungarian term of endearment)  
> Mon amie: My friend  
> Mon cherie: My dear  
> Mon Dieu: My God  
> Mon ami: My friend


	2. It's a Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient with me! I never meant to let six months pass without posting...whoops! Keep your eyes peeled in August, though. I should be updating regularly. And thank you to everyone who left such lovely comments on the first chapter. Let me know what you think of this one!

_ October _

Francis back was to the door when the bell rang. 

"Welcome to  _ Merci Beaucoup,  _ ask if you have any questions." He called, finishing the arrangement of flowers on the shelf.  

"Uh, yes, thank you," an English voice answered him. After a moment,"can you, uh, open this for me?" he asked hesitantly. 

At that Francis turned, and stopped in his tracks. Standing there looking at his display of antique books was possibly one of the most beautiful men Francis had ever seen. Swallowing, Francis grabbed the keys to the cabinet off the counter.

"I just love the smell of old books, do you not?" He asked, trying to make friendly conversation. "It reminds me of home." Francis stepped back as the cabinet door swung open.  

The man hummed in agreement. "The greatest city in the world," he added.  

"Paris."

"London."  

They spoke simultaneously, eyes narrowing at the other's response.  

"Well, mon ami, it appears that we have two very different tastes in living. Mine just happens to better."  

Arthur scoffed at that assessment. "I beg your pardon? How is Paris possibly any better than London?" 

He grabbed the book he'd been looking at, following Francis up to the register as their banter continued.  

"Would you like the short list or the long list, mon cheri?"  

Arthur's mouth gaped. "In my professional medical opinion, you are completely delusional, mate."  

Francis chuckled. "Is the book all, Angleterre?"  

Arthur looked at the shelf of flowers, and grabbed a small bouquet of roses.  

Francis hummed as he rang him up. "One set of roses, and..." he paused, checking the title of the book. "Romeo and Juliet. How romantic?"

The Englishman snorted. "Have you read the play? Six people die! It's hardly romantic."  

"Ah, but is the classic tale of forbidden love not enticing? Along with the roses for your dearest, I presume?"

Arthur cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "You, uh, presume wrong." 

"Well, there is nothing wrong with spoiling yourself, mon ami." Francis winked, printing out the receipt.  

Flustered, Arthur looked down at the counter. As Francis handed him the receipt a new song came over the loudspeakers. Both men smiled at the selection.  

"Excellent choice," Arthur commented.  

"Ah, a Vera Lynn fan, are we?"

"She's magnificent,  _ and  _ from the greatest nation on Earth, I might add."  

The Frenchman looked aghast as his smacked his forehead. "And all this time I thought she was English!"

That actually elicited a laugh from Arthur. "Alright, that was well done."  

"Merci," he winked again.  

In the moment of silence that followed, Arthur extended his hand out to the other man. "Arthur. Uh, my name's Arthur. I believe I am your tenant."  

Francis met his eyes, and slowly looked down at the extended hand. Taking it, he gently lifted it to his mouth, placing a light kiss on the knuckles. "Bonjour Arthur. I am Francis."  

The Englishman's face was bright red as he gathered his items together. "I, uh, well, thank you."

As Arthur turned to leave, a group of people filed into the shop. He heard the Frenchman call out to them as the door closed behind him, Arthur hurriedly making his way out into the street.

\--- 

"The little Italians finally opened their restaurant?" Francis observed as they walked around the corner, the small brick café coming into view.  

Antonio hummed in approval. "Just over a month. I have heard it to be quite successful as well. One of the best in this neighborhood. Eliza loves it." 

Gilbert laughed. "If Lovino gets asked about Olive Garden one more time I think he might actually murder someone."

Shuddering at the O word, Francis opened the door to the restaurant. Bella Ciao Ristorante was bustling with lunch service; nearly every table was full.  

"Welcome to Bella-Francis!" The small Italian launched himself at Francis, hugging his waist. "When did you get back? Ludwig said you should be back soon but he didn't know the actual date and is your hair longer? Have you been eating right? You look skinny. Come, you must sit down! Anything you want is on the house!"

He led the trio to several small tables in the corner. Pushing them together, there was enough room for everyone. After distributing the menus and promising an eggplant starter, Feliciano left to attend to another table.

"Where is the little angry one?" Francis mused as he sat down, looking around the small restaurant. It was cozy, fitting about 15 tables in the small space. Pictures lined the brick walls, locations in Italy, Germany, France, Austria, and even New York. Francis knew they had been taken by Feli. The place felt like Italy.  

"They don't let him out of the kitchen," Gilbert answered, sitting next to him. Antonio sat opposite them.

"So is that why Toni keeps looking at the kitchen doors?" Francis teased.

The Spaniard blushed, but stuck his tongue out at him. Francis returned the action.  

"When are you going to grow a pair and go for it?" Gilbert asked, sipping the water that was just placed down before him.  

"I was just about to ask you the same thing, amigo. It has been four years. Put a ring on it." Antonio retorted without missing a beat.

"And I would be careful, Gilbert, considering who your best friends is. I think Elizaveta would have some very strong opinions about your choice of phrasing." Francis contributed.

The German raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, hey, hey, when did this become the 'Rank on Gilbert Show?' I thought we were riding Toni ass?"

"Speaking of, when  _ are _ you going to ask our little Lovino out?" The Frenchman continued smoothly, holding out his hand so Gilbert could high five it. The two immediately burst into laughter.

Antonio rolled his eyes at them. "You two should never be allowed in public together."

Their mirth was interrupted when Gilbert's eyes narrowed at the door of the restaurant.

"Hey, Franny?" 

"Quoi?"  

"Isn't that your Englishman?"

Francis turned to where Gilbert was looking. Arthur was, in fact, entering the restaurant. He walked through the main floor to the bar in the corner and spoke to the bartender for a moment. He was in blue scrubs with a white lab coat, and looked to be in a hurry.  

"Well that makes more sense," Francis muttered, averting his attention by looking down at his menu. Antonio raised an eyebrow at him.  

"I always hear him coming in at such odd hours. I never thought he might be a doctor."  

"You've been tracking his schedule?" Gilbert asked, his tone teasing.

"Do not get any ideas, mon ami." Despite his denial, the Frenchman blushed at the insinuation.

Gilbert's face lit up at the realization. 

They were interrupted by the kitchen doors swinging open. A small brunet, similar in stature to Feliciano, handed the Englishman a styrofoam take out box, which Arthur took gratefully. Lovino looked over at the group of men, making eye contact with Antonio. The Spaniard smiled, and the Italian scowled in response.

Glancing briefly at the table of men, Arthur did a double take, and quickly averted eye contact with Francis. Hurriedly turning to leave, a voice called out to him from the back office. A sturdy set blond man came into view, looking pleased to see him. The Brit returned the smile, shaking hands with him and engaging in small talk. 

"How does Ludwig know Arthur?" Francis asked quietly. 

"I think they were in the military together," Gilbert answered, eyes still trained on the men across the room.

Both Antonio and Francis looked at Gilbert, confusion apparent. The German broke his gaze to look back at them. "What?" 

"They served in the army... _ together _ ?" Antonio reiterated slowly. Gilbert nodded.  

"Gilbert, which fucking one?" Francis exasperated. As far as he knew, neither men shared a nationality, narrowing previous employment options.

Gilbert made a sound of unsurety as he shrugged his shoulders. 

Antonio sighed as Arthur made his way out of the restaurant. "You are useless, mi amigo." 

\--- 

A gust of hot wind greeted them as they descended into the subway.  

"Well that was refreshing," Roderich commented sarcastically as he loosened the scarf around his neck, violin case in his other hand.  

Gilbert ran his tongue along his teeth in disgust. "Yeah, pollution has always been my favorite flavor." 

Francis quickly passed through the toll, swiping his metrocard as he went. Roderich's concert had run later than it was supposed to, and Francis had already blown off Elizaveta twice this month for their  _ Game of Thrones  _ marathon. He couldn't cancel a third.  

"Can you two walk faster, s'il vous plait? I would like for Eliza to not kill me tonight." 

Gilbert laughed as he ran to catch up with his friend. "If she hits you, that's on you, mein Freund. I claim no responsibility whatsoever." 

"What else is new?" Roderich asked, catching up with them. Gilbert scrunched his face up at that, a gesture Roderich readily returned.  

They turned onto their track, squeezing through the thick crowd to get closer to the platform's edge. Arriving just as the subway pulled up, they quickly filed in, securing a space in the far corner of the car. Roderich and Gilbert sat down, while Francis stood holding onto the railing next to them. Gilbert looked blankly out at the rest of the passengers, smiling widely when he spotted someone.  

"Hey Francey-Pants?" 

"What, Gilbert?" he responded trepidatiously. When Gilbert started using those kinds of nicknames, he was usually up to no good.  

"I'm started to think the Brit is stalking you. It's definitely a sign, mein Freund." He gestured to a few seats down from them, where sure enough sat Arthur, face in his newspaper. 

"Please do not start-" Francis couldn't even finish his plea before his friend had already launched himself out of his seat.  

"Meine Damen und Herren! Mesdames et messieurs! Ladies and gentlemen! How many of you believe in destiny?" He called out to his fellow passengers, many of them nodded or voicing their approval.

"Mon dieu," Francis moaned, covering his face with his hand as Gilbert continued his one man show.  

The German walked up and down the car, addressing people individually. Once he got going it was nearly impossible for him to be stopped. 

"You see, I ask because my friend over there-" Francis hid his face even further at being pointed out. "Has been receiving signs all week!" 

Arthur turned towards where Gilbert was gesturing, eyebrows rising when he realized it was Francis.

"This man-" he now directed his attention to Arthur, who looked extremely alarmed. "This man has been running into my friend for weeks now. Could mere chance have caused this to occur? Or could the universe have a message for them?" 

"No!" Francis firmly asserted.  _ I'm so sorry  _ he mouthed at the Englishman, whose face was steadily turning more red.  

"Don't you think these two should at least attempt a date?" Gilbert continued to shred every last piece of dignity that Francis had. To make matters worse, half of the car was cheering him on. Only in New York City.

"Gilbert, please stop," Francis groaned, trying to end the torture Arthur was currently experiencing.  

"You heard them Franny! They love it!" The German had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as Arthur practically ran out of the car when the doors opened.  

As Gilbert made his way back to them, Francis smacked the back of his head while Roderich mumbled something about dating a child.   

"I hate you, mon ami. I truly do."

The albino winked. "You'll thank me later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angleterre: England  
> Meine Damen und Herren: ladies and gentlemen (German)


End file.
